Chapter 2

Once the crowd had thinned, Xing Luo darted toward the ice coffin. Making use of her feline agility, she leapt gracefully upward.
But just as her tiny paws clung to the edge of the coffin, a wisp of chilling, pitch-black demonic energy began to coil around the air nearby.
Xing Luo froze. That aura, she knew it far too well.
It’s him?
As the demonic energy thickened, a tall figure emerged before the coffin.
It was a man, slender, commanding, and impossibly composed. He was dressed in flowing black robes, his presence radiating a crushing power and a cold, noble air.
His long, dark hair fell neatly down his back. He looked every bit the heaven-favored son, born above the rest of the world.
And his face, he was breathtaking, his features sharp and flawless, like a masterpiece carved by the gods themselves.
But Xing Luo felt no appreciation for his beauty. Every hair on her body stood on end.
This man was none other than Ye Lixiao, the King of the Demon Realm.
Her sworn enemy in life.
Xing Luo might have been mischievous, even unruly at times, but she was certain of one thing, she had never provoked Ye Lixiao first. Yet from the moment they met, he had seemed to detest her, mocking her, needling her, as if her very existence offended him. And over the years, that hatred only grew, until he wanted nothing more than to see her dead.
Their relationship had always been venomous, locked in endless opposition.
So why was he here at her funeral?
Whatever his reason, it couldn’t be good. Was he planning to destroy her body?
Absolutely not!
In her panic, Xing Luo didn’t even notice the sorrow flickering in Ye Lixiao’s eyes.
“Meow!” she cried out in a soft, kittenish voice, hoping to draw attention. But her mew was pitifully weak, nowhere near loud enough to reach anyone else. Instead, it caught his attention.
Ye Lixiao’s deep, icy gaze shifted toward her.
The moment their eyes met, a shiver ran down her small body.
Why, why did he feel even more terrifying than before?
When Ye Lixiao finally saw the little black kitten clinging to the side of the coffin, his expression didn’t change. With a flick of his hand, a gust of force sent her flying.
“Meow!” Xing Luo yowled as she hit the ground.
Ye Lixiao didn’t spare her another glance. He stood before the ice coffin, silently gazing down at the woman lying within. Her face, once full of life and spirit, was now pale as snow, still exquisite, but lifeless.
Pain flickered through his eyes, sharp and unguarded. He stared unblinking at her motionless form, then slowly reached out a hand toward Xing Luo’s delicate face inside the coffin.
“Meow! Meow! Meow!!!”
Before he could touch her, a flurry of sharp, furious meows split the silence.
“…” Ye Lixiao’s brows drew together in mild irritation. He lifted his hand, intending to silence the noisy creature permanently, but paused when he met the kitten’s gaze.
Xing Luo’s fur was bristling, her tiny body puffed up like a ball, eyes blazing with what she thought was fierce defiance. She bared her little teeth at him, glaring as if to say, You dare lay a hand on my body?!
For a long moment, man and cat stared each other down.
Anyone else, human or beast, would have quailed under Ye Lixiao’s demonic pressure, trembling or fleeing in terror, but this tiny black kitten didn’t back down an inch.
Her courage was anything but ordinary.